Chronicle: Shara's Wedding

In middle school, my devotion to Star Wars separated me from the average 11-year old.

Very often, i was the butt of a billion jokes beyond my recollection because i was blasting into lightspeed, considering Jabba the Hut's crime ties and Mark Hamill's potential interest in (much) younger women. If not i was sketching photos of myself with sweet Cinnabon hair wielding elegant weapons for a more civilized age a long time ago in a galaxy far far away.

Somewhere amidst this minor psychosis, i met Shara.

i knew Shara because she and another girl were in every one of my non-academic classes: chorus, phys. ed. and finally "Family and Consumer Sciences" (home ec.). One day, in the hall before class she warmly walked up to me and announced we'd be working some super-domestic module together. She was excited.
From the first moment i'll never forget, i never thought that she (or anyone else legitimately socialized) knew i existed. Looking back, my androgynous chipmunk with well-worn Boba Fett bookbag aesthetic seems less forgettable. At the time i was cloaked (hence, invisible) to the world around me, only existing in the smoky corridors of rebel starships.

The first freak introduction gave way to years of curricular camaraderie. In high school, we shared giggles on chorus trips and secrets in German classes. Shara sang Vertical Horizon and later Evanescence pitch perfectly and always held her own as an alto. In college, she convinced me to finally break up with my darling but deceptive first love. Artistically, we were always intrinsically similar though her decisive style always set her apart. i love and admire her to this day and seeing her in the arms of her adoring groom burst my typical marital cynicism. She marched down the aisle to music i never could've heard felt from the bridge of the Millenium Falcon.

i wish her only the most wonderful world of joy ahead. She's shined so much light into to the life of a once forlorn junior jedi even through public school setting.

Chronicle: Mike McGinnis' Birthday/Musing

The opportunity to breathe with ease is rare.

Spending time with Becca, Hillary, Mike and my Stephen yesterday allowed me a soul-deep sigh. The marvelous cleverness of those magnetic beings helps me shed the heavy skin of burden building slow and insidious over life. Nothing could be better than making a kind person genuinely laugh or vice versa. We try too hard for a living to be this weary in life.

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Earlier yesterday, i visited with Adam after work with moving boxes for Tali (Jeremy).

Meeting Tali's friend Amariah made miss my days as a demagogue a smidge.

Her understanding of our world's painfully limiting truths and notions of "love" validated and inspired me. Along with her friend, Hayes, she left a lasting happy impression.

i feel so far from my old home in fancy long words, wishes for a new world and big verbose books. i ultimately ran from the pages, feeling the pursuit of keeping radical awareness often allows exclusivity and legalism. Factions speak loud and can hurt those who haven't learned their fancy language. In the end, the foundation of my beliefs is strong though my chosen relations are wildly diverse. And that's okay.

Semi-desolate Silence

i've realized that the people i love are my passion.
Reflecting on my life, the only thing i seem to do with consistency is pine for the beloved absentees that used to occupy substantial time and space in my life. Once i've associated a face with a feeling, it's hard to ignore the vacancies that bygone visual delight leaves behind.
Adult life is both rewarding and restrictive.
i've found someone to slather with unwholesome amounts of attention and affection; that is good.
i've found no job compatible with my drive for creativity and compassion; that is less good.
i've lost all sorts of friends to business, illness, inconvenience. It's not friendships losing luster, rather long lapses of life in the doldrums. Lapses that afforded great loneliness alongside great companionship in the understanding of disappointment.

*Today, i did 4 loads of laundry, hit up some hard athletic cardio and roasted a whole chicken (to compliment mashed potatoes and green beans). i really need to revise my website. And be a better friend.*

i saw The Wrestler and i loved it.
i saw Gran Torino and genuinely enjoyed it.
i saw John Edwards and adored every minute of it.

Love & Hate & Money

i hate how important money is to me.
Still, denying the dynamic impact of currency, denying it's ability to dramatically enhance my life in a capitalist country is futile. Time is money. Money does talk. And plastic flies.
And a part of me dies because i am a part of it.
While i need it, it certainly does not always need me.

We middle-class candy junkies swap sweets and colorless smiles, eating animals with faces unseen, exchanging mild attempts at humor and courtesy. i am one of them, even in genuine gestures of affection, under constant surveillance of my monstrous lack of awareness. i feel so out of touch.

i'm just a silly woman who's more content with a small mind; knowing less equals more belief in this assumption of control. i am always one slip away from being another one of "them"... What i am and what i do makes little difference as a bitty byte on someone's bottom line except to those people to whom i am responsible and that i could or do love and they make all the difference in the world.

i miss feeling like i could fly. i miss you. In the midst of my well-managed world, i miss you.
Names and faces. Names and faces. Names and faces with empty feelings for me...

Wonder(ing) Woman

Tonight kisses my face and hands with a mild chill.
i'm almost comforted by the abundance of doughy belly belting my waist despite making these jeans impossibly unstable against jelly padded curves. i want to be beautiful in a pure crystalline, contoured way but losing my squishy warmth seems nakedish and pulsing vulnerable.
Comfort is central in my sense of tranquility because to me comfortable means both content and able to comfort.
Can i become captivating and charismatic without losing my ability to console and be considerate?
Can i embrace my potential for beauty without drowning in a nexus of competitive conceit?
i want to be a wondrous paradox: dually light-hearted and taken seriously.
Pretty, funny and pretty fucking smart.

Pixelated Pixie Dust

Living with a portrait of my previous view of perfection is sweet poetic justice.
Lyn is the maternal figure i fantasized about and the poise and maturity i attempt to achieve. The sadness of heroes makes me more sure of the journey and the service journalism i've chosen for myself yet more scared of another wreck of sputtering on empty.

A phone call yesterday reminded me of the chaos i've escaped and the sweetness of my current simplicity. There is so little room left for regression and so much to be reckoned.

Still, my happiness continues and the stability of Stephen's ongoing devotion remains the novel end to my dreamy days. i continue to wait for the sparkling bubble to burst into a sad soapy puddle but both my cozy new company and and my old stickysweet honeypie continue to cradle me into a sense of security that scares me.
How to progress on this redhot high wire of happiness without slipping into a self-made noose?
i still mourn lost friends and seek resolution to dueling dualities. Actively disciplining myself with strength and balance needs to be my new way and not just some slogan from a Foxy TV news affiliate. What path is there for an growing autodidact who has already outgrown the small shoes left to fill?